


The Weight

by Brigadier_Blue



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019) Actor RPF, Dean-Charles Chapman - Fandom
Genre: 1917 spoilers, Actors, Comfort, Dating, Dialogue Heavy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, Love, Men Crying, No Smut, On Set, One Shot, Other, Reader-Interactive, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Spoilers, dean is baby, he must be protected at all costs, hes a sad boy, just fluff, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:55:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23794231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brigadier_Blue/pseuds/Brigadier_Blue
Summary: Dean returns from filming and needs some cheering up.
Relationships: Dean Charles Chapman x You, Dean x You, Dean-Charles Chapman/Reader, Dean-Charles Chapman/You, Dean/reader
Kudos: 8





	The Weight

Take a load off, Fanny

Take a load for free

You startle at the sound of your phone ringing, an instinctive smile curling at your lips as you hear the familiar tune of The Weight by The Band playing from your pocket.

“Hey, love! How goes the filming?” you answer Dean’s call brightly, smiling into the receiver as you relax against the couch.

“Pretty good, but I feel like I haven’t seen you in days,” he replies, a pout evident in his voice.

“You saw me this morning, silly,” you giggle.

It did feel as if the two of you hardly spent any time together anymore; the preparation for 1917 had taken longer than either of you had thought, and now that filming had begun, you rarely saw Dean during the day.

“I’ll be home early tonight, the weather’s shit so we can’t film much. It’s lovely outside, no clouds for miles. Absolute shit,” Dean chuckles quietly on the other end and you grin in response, forgetting that he can’t see your smile.

“I’ll try to be awake when you get home, but no promises,” you reply, crossing your legs and propping your feet up on the small coffee table in front of the couch.

“No worries, darling. I probably won’t be able to make it five minutes home without passing out,” he says, and you can hear the exhaustion in his voice.

You both pause, just enjoying each other’s presence, speaking becoming unnecessary as you sigh into the phone. You hear muffled voices on Dean’s end, and a hushed reply as he tries to convince Sam to give him a few more minutes with you. You smile and wait for his reluctant goodbye. 

“I hate to cut this short, but duty calls…I’ll see you tonight.”

“Bye, love. Good luck finding some clouds,” you say, smiling as you hear both Dean and George’s laugh.

“I love you,” he says softly, as if trying to have one last moment with you away from the crew and cast.

“Love you more, D.”

You hang up, leaning your head back against the couch and feeling around for the TV remote. You might as well try to fill the time until Dean gets home. You flick through the channels and settle on an Our Planet special about exotic birds, letting yourself relax completely into the cushions. Before you know it, you’re fast asleep, the soothing voice of David Attenborough clouding your mind as colorful feathers float across the screen.

…

A quiet shuffling from the front hall causes you to wake up, and you slowly open your eyes to the blue shadows of evening. A warm yellow light filters in from the front door, and you realize that Dean has arrived home. A lazy smile settles over your face as you pull yourself off of the couch and make your way to the hallway to greet him.

“Hey lovie, you’re still up,” he speaks softly as he sees you approaching from the living room, still wrapped in a blanket that you had tangled yourself in during your nap.

“Mmhm,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his torso and closing your eyes, letting his scent wash over you. He exhales into the embrace, placing his chin in the crook of your neck as he sways slightly with you in his arms.

“Missed you all day,” he murmurs into your hair, placing a kiss to your neck.

“Missed you too,” you breathe, pulling him in tighter as you feel his smile against your skin.

“Sorry if I woke you up. You still tired?” he asks, pulling back slightly to look down at you with warm eyes.

“A bit, though I took a nap so I’m not sure how successful I’ll be falling asleep again,” you reply, resting your head against his chest. You can feel his steady heartbeat from under his sweatshirt, and you focus on the lulling sound.

“Well I’m knackered. Feels like I haven’t slept in years,” he groans, letting his arms loosen around you as he makes his way to the kitchen.

“How was shooting? Any clouds?”

“Yes actually, we had a stroke of luck when the wind picked up, so we got to shoot a few scenes. Filmed one of the hardest ones today,” he says with a slight frown that doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Yeah?” you reply, waiting to see if he’ll elaborate.

“Yeah, it was exhausting. One of the longest takes we’ve ever done, and really emotionally taxing,” he huffs out a laugh to lighten his words, but you can tell that it’s forced.

“Everything okay, love? You seem stressed,” you purse your lips, looking knowingly into his eyes.

He runs a hand through his hair and looks away, leaning against the counter top. “M’fine, just tired,” he brushes you off, his shoulders tense.

“I know you, Dean. I can tell when you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset, just…a little shaken I guess,” he replies, eyes closing as he rubs his face.

“What happened?” you ask with slight concern, coming around the counter to his side.

“Nothing, don’t worry love. Blake can be tough sometimes, that’s all,” he turns to you, still leaning against the table as he tries to put on a smile.

“I can’t imagine what it’s like to have to be a soldier, even in a movie,” you look into his eyes, trying to pick out his emotions.

Dean stays silent for a moment, just looking back at you with sharp, blue eyes.

“It was Blake’s death scene. We filmed it today,” he finally speaks, his voice low as he continues to fiddle with his hair.

You reach a hand up to stop him, smoothing out his brown curls and giving him a sympathetic look. You know how attached he is to the character, you had seen his reaction when he had first read the script for 1917, and you can tell he doesn’t want to let him go.

“It was odd, you know. We’d all rehearsed everything for months, but at the end of the scene, I just couldn’t stop crying.” He tilts his head to meet your gaze again, emotion swimming in his eyes.

You give him a sad smile, reaching for his hands. He wraps them around yours, his grip firm and soft, and you give his fingers a squeeze.

“That’s understandable, darling. It’s a sad story,” you comfort him. 

“I think I just need a break. I don’t know why this is affecting me so much.” His voice wavers as he furrows his brows, trying to hide the tears welling in his eyes.

You feel your throat tighten up just from his broken expression, and you fight to stay composed so you can comfort him.

“It’s because you love Blake. And dying like he does…I don’t know how you do it,” you shake your head, watching Dean blink back fresh tears.

Dean nods and swallows thickly, stepping closer to you. You open your arms for him and he accepts the hug gratefully.

You stroke his back as he takes deep breaths against you, pressing a kiss to his temple. You hold him like that for a few moments before gathering yourself and breaking the silence.

“It’s okay to be upset about it, you know. I’m sure I’ll be a right mess when I see it,” you say softly, moving your face to rest your lips by his ear.

“Why don’t we go to bed now, alright?” you whisper.

“Yeah,” Dean sighs, his breathing steadier as he releases you from the tight hug.

You follow him to the bedroom, watching the heavy drag of his feet as you turn off the hallway lights and let the dark haze of night cast vertical shadows on the walls.

You don’t bother putting on pajamas and climb into bed wearing just your t-shirt, slipping under the comforter next to Dean who is already lying down with his eyes closed.

You turn to face him and he opens his eyes, weary and hooded with sleep. He blinks slowly and smiles at you, using his arm to pull you into him so that your head rests against his shoulder and his arm wraps snugly around your waist.

“Thanks,” he whispers, and you tilt your head up to meet his tired gaze.

“For what?”

“For being you.”

“Anytime,” you grin, your reply almost drowned out by a yawn.

He shakes his head, “I mean it. Thank you for always listening and caring. Most people wouldn’t.” 

“I’ll always listen. And of course I care, I love you,” you murmur against his chest, shuffling your body closer to his so that you are pressed completely against him.

“I love you too,” he says softly, his thumb rubbing your hip gently beneath the covers.

“Goodnight, D,” you yawn again, throwing an arm over his chest and placing your hand over his heart.

“Goodnight,” he breathes out, his hand coming up to rest over yours as he places a kiss on the top of your head.

It feels as if a weight is pulling at your lids as you attempt to take one last loving look at Dean before drifting off to sleep, feeling warm and safe with his arms around you.

That night, you dream of brightly colored birds.

**Author's Note:**

> I think I'm gonna stick with writing for Tom mainly cuz I want to do some Blakefield fics ;) but lmk if you want to see more of Dean!


End file.
